


not so nice

by FeliciaAmelloides



Series: A Oneshot a Day... [191]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: A few violent descriptions, Angst, Awkwardness, M/M, On the boat heading home, Post-Island, Roger is a Psychopath, savagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeliciaAmelloides/pseuds/FeliciaAmelloides
Summary: On the boat which rescued them from the Hellish reality of the Island, an unconcerned psychopath and an emotionally scarred former savage reunite for some strange conversation and potentially repressed emotions.((What are summaries kill me.))





	not so nice

**Author's Note:**

> This is to make up for my last shitty Rogice oneshot. I think this one turned out a lot better, which is a good sign! 
> 
> TW for some violent descriptions (please tell me if this should be archive warned- I didn’t think so because there aren’t any violent scenes, but idk). 
> 
> If Roger is characterised kind of funny, it’s because I’m using my headcanon for him as a psychopath which means he’s relatively emotionless and bases things on what he wants rather than how he feels or any other circumstances (there’s more to it than that, but I won’t go into it here).

Moonlight cast a silver sheen over the ocean which gently rocked a naval cutter resting on its surface. The night air was cool and crisp, with the strong smell of the ocean present everywhere. Atop the freshly polished deck, a lone boy stood gazing out at the water blankly.

Roger didn’t need to sleep. Not much, anyway. Not since the island. It was too tempting to be in the hold with the others. Since the island, he hadn’t had much self-control. So he stood on the deck, alone save for the moon and the water. Had he been a more sentimental person, he might have found it beautiful. But he wasn’t a sentimental person.

A slight noise near the door leading into the underbelly of the ship raised Roger’s guard in an instant. His head snapped towards the source of the sound, hands clenched into fists.

He was met with the widened eyes of a very familiar boy.

Maurice had frozen upon realising he wasn’t alone, but was seriously considering running back into the hold once he discovered who had beat him to the deck. Now all he could do was stand in a state of shock and terror. It was strange, really. Roger had once been someone he considered to be a friend.

Roger found that approaching the panic-stricken savage wasn’t too difficult. He reached him in seconds, stopping just before him. They looked into each other’s eyes in a silent duel before Maurice broke the silence.

“N-nice night tonight, huh?” His voice cracked, either from not speaking for over five seconds or from pure fear. Roger nodded stiffly. He was lying, of course. ‘Nice’ wasn’t a word for nights or days. ‘Nice’ was a word for getting what you want, and holding that thing. Beating that thing. Killing that thing.

“Were you planning on staying here all night?” Another question. Another use of the word ‘night’. Roger didn’t understand people like Maurice. Always so cheerful and quick to come up with words until fear pulled their extraversion from their bodies and tore their communication skills apart. He responded in the same way as before. Never particularly loud anyway, Roger had decided to not use words unless he really had to for this interaction. Maurice’s face fell somewhat. He was so obvious... Then he did something Roger hadn’t expected.

“Then... May I join you?” The boy was suddenly able to move, shuffling forwards into the moonlight from where he had hung in the doorway. Roger now found himself frozen, surprised by the strange turn of events. He recovered faster than Maurice had however and was soon returning to the railing without answering his question. He frowned when he discovered the brunet had taken that as an affirmative and followed him there.

They didn’t speak for a while, but Roger could sense Maurice’s eyes darting towards him, lingering, then flicking away again. Presumably he was trying to come up with something to say, but only receiving nothing. He wasn’t surprised. Most people were like that around him. Even the Chief, sometimes. Even Jack. Some Chief he was. 

“Do you ever get the feeling it never ends?” Maurice’s voice yet again broke the silence. It was beginning to mildly irritate Roger. He decided to make a mental note to deal with that later. Once they were away from the grown ups he could have his fun. Maurice was waiting for an answer this time. Roger felt like the ex-savage would become annoying if he said nothing, so he obliged him.

“Of course it does. There’s land on the other side.” The brunet just gave him a look of confusion. Then his face lit up with realisation and he laughed softly, almost bitterly.

“I didn’t mean the ocean. I was talking about _this_ ,” He made a wide sweeping gesture with his hands, “Us. You know? The Island. Jack. Ralph. We’re never going to forget about it. Never going to see each other in the same way.” Maurice’s voice was surprisingly humourless. Roger glanced at him and saw a mixture of pain and regret in his eyes. That was good. He could use that later.

“Does it matter?” He queried quietly, this time as a genuine question. He knew more about his fellow choir members than he ever had before, and had learnt a fair bit about himself too. It would be amusing to play with that more back home, Roger supposed, so long as he wasn’t caught.

“Of course it matters! Are you really saying that when we go back to school and start singing again, you won’t find it weird that Simon isn’t there? What about Piggy? You’re the one who- who-“ Maurice made a strange strangled noise and didn’t continue. Roger eyed him warily. He had already determined that most people would react like that. But he wasn’t most people. Had Maurice not figured that out yet?

“No.” He muttered, eyes trained on the way the silver glow caught on the waves once again. Maurice made another weird noise, looking at him hard as if seeing him for the first time. 

“Who are you?” He asked quietly after some time had passed. That caught Roger’s attention. He looked at Maurice properly for only the second time that night. His hair was long and tangled, eyes wild and filled with previously unknown emotions, body still carrying the smudged remains of savage paint. A world away from the Maurice he had once known. 

“I’m me.” Roger replied in the same quiet tone. He didn’t have a better answer for that. All he knew was that he was a little bit different. Most people didn’t feel a rush of excitement in the pit of their stomach at the thought of killing one of their own, after all. Maybe Jack did. Roger had been trying to figure that out for some time. Despite their shared bloodlust, something was still very different about them. Perhaps it was Jack’s insane obsession with Ralph. Or maybe it was how emotional he was. Roger would never cry in front of his entire tribe and enemy. He would never cry, period. But Jack would, and Jack did. So they were different. 

“That doesn’t answer the question though. You can’t just be you.” Actually, Maurice wasn’t really like the others either. He seemed more ‘normal’ by Roger’s standards, but at the same time he wasn’t always the most emphatic of boys. Maurice did what he wanted, when he wanted. That was something Roger saw within himself, although the things he wanted were much darker than anything Maurice desired. He internally scoffed. Why was he thinking about things like that?

“Why not?” His head felt fuzzy. Too many thoughts. Sometimes he just needed to breathe. Maurice still seemed taken aback by everything he said. Was he really saying anything all that strange? It didn’t seem so.

“Because... Because... Y-you’re so much more than that. That can’t be it!” The brunet seemed oddly passionate all of a sudden. So he was trying to idealise Roger into someone he could get his head around. That made sense. Roger took a step closer to him and relished in the way he flinched and tried to edge back into the railing. 

“That’s it.” He said once he was only inches away from Maurice’s face. The terror in his eyes was enthralling. 

But then the boy did yet another thing that shocked Roger to his core. 

He leaned forwards and gently wrapped his arms around him.

The space between their bodies was suddenly too tight, and Roger felt warm and more fuzzy than before. He seemed to be short-circuiting like a machine- nothing worked right, no thoughts were being processed. Maurice held him with an iron-like grip that Roger never knew he possessed, then slowly released him with a bright red face and an anxious expression.

“I-I’m sorry, I-“ Roger was finally the one to cut him off.

“It’s late.” Maurice cocked his head to one side, then his eyes widened comically when he realised what he was insinuating. Roger stared at him dazedly. He didn’t understand what had just happened, only that he suddenly really wanted to drive a spear through Maurice’s head and watch as he slowly choked to death on his own blood. The thought sent that same rush of excitement through him as it did during the final hunt, or when he learnt all his weight on the lever, or when he almost hit that littlun with a rock. 

“I’m not going back down there. Have you- um- have you slept there before?” Roger just shook his head, “Wow. Not at all? Okay. Well, I’ll just say that it sounds like a massacre is occurring down there every single night. But Ralph is the worst, I think. He doesn’t even sleep. He just sits there and stares. I think he’s scared we’ll do him in.” 

“Will we?” Maurice swallowed thickly.

“No. Or, at least I won’t,” His voice sounded off. Like he might be lying, or unsure as to whether he was or no, “W-will you?” It started to shake.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” The brunet sank to the deck and learnt back against the railing shakily. Roger joined him without asking for permission.

“You know... I don’t think you really can be just ‘you’. There’s too much other stuff out there. And I know you’re not just what everyone thinks you are.” It really was a ‘nice’ night. The stars were multitudinous above them, shining with the brightness of a thousands suns (was that redundant?), white against the blackness of the sky. 

“A monster?” Maurice nodded sort of nervously. Roger made a noise as close to a laugh as he could muster. It was weird trying to relate to other people, “I’m not a monster,” He looked Maurice straight in the eyes. No emotions this time, “I’m human. That’s the worst part.” His eyes looked almost black without sunlight to reveal their true colour. As usual, they were chillingly dead-looking. But instead of shuddering, Maurice smiled. It wasn’t his usual grin. Just a warm, genuine smile to break through the coldness of the nights at sea.

“It’s the best part, actually. Or at least I think it is. People can change. Monsters can’t.” Roger considered that. He disagreed, actually. People didn’t change. They only added to what they already had.

Before he could reply, Maurice suddenly rose from his makeshift seat and took a step forward in the direction of the hull. 

“Guess I’d better face the massacre then,” He said with another smile, “You should get some sleep.” He added quickly.

Roger didn’t know what to say to that. Was Maurice... brushing him off? Too scared to stay with him? Wait, did he even want him to stay? 

He decided that was enough questioning for tonight. Maurice was already halfway to the hull after all. He turned back at that point to look at Roger, smile not quite leaving his face.

“G’night, Rodge.” 

An unspoken reply lingered in the sea air as the moon settled over the horizon to welcome in the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I characterised my psychopath Roger okay. In my upcoming chapter fic which I’ll probably never actually post because it’s been upcoming since February, I do it much better. That’s because I actually researched it first.....
> 
> Sorry for all the innuendos. They’re unintentional, I swear!
> 
> Prompt- Hug.
> 
> That’s why there’s a random hug scene. I was gonna explain why that was there in the oneshot, but it’s past midnight and I need to be awake early tomorrow (today, actually) so screw that.
> 
> Original Number- 116.


End file.
